


When You Cast Your Spell

by VeronicaRich



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: But totally songfic, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Oh wait I'm the weirdo, Post-Canon, Songfic not songfic, weirdos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 17:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19361047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaRich/pseuds/VeronicaRich
Summary: Aziraphale makes the world move a little faster with the power of music and technology





	When You Cast Your Spell

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I don't write songfic; I think I've done it once before in another fandom. I've nothing against the genre, but it doesn't generally work for me, because I can't seem to fit lyrics organically into the way I like to write.
> 
> 2\. Yet here we are, with a 15-minute-written songfic. Considering these two's powers, I figure this sort of thing could happen.
> 
> 3\. If you don't like this song, you can imagine literally any other song you prefer instead, so long as it has lyrics. THAT IS MY GIFT TO YOU. And if you simply don't know it, look up "Magic" by America (yes, the "Horse With No Name" band).
> 
> 4\. This is very loosely based on an incident from my past involving a traffic jam, a vacation trip, windows being down because it was 1,000 degrees outside, and a big-band radio station.

“We are never going to get there.” He relaxed briefly behind the wheel, slumping enough to convey his deep displeasure. “Are you sure you really want to go to this … soiree?”

“Oh, I really feel we must. I haven’t yet sufficiently repaid Tracy for her absolutely vital help in my time of need.” The angel again straightened the bow on the tin on his lap.

Crowley eyed said tin and fingers. “So you think a box of frosted biscuits for the new cottage says ‘Cheerio, and thanks for the run of your body, there’s a love?’”

Aziraphale’s brief “tsk” rhymed with “be quiet.” “It’s a beginning.”

“See, now.” The demon’s hips slinked his body back up into a straight posture. “I would’ve thought keeping the Earth from discorporating would have been the proper beginning to a thank-you. Maybe the ending too.”

“I’ve been thinking of that, actually.” More ribbon-straightening, and Crowley figured at least one star nursery came into being and expanded as traffic advanced three feet and he waited for an explanation. Finally, he prodded: “AND?”

“Well … I’m not strictly certain we did anything ourselves to stave off the Apocalypse. Seems more like it was the boy putting Old Scratch in his place, and Anathema and her young man disabling the weapons network.”

“Yes, and WE put the fear of Go- US, into Hell and Heaven,” Crowley pointed out. “Threw ‘em off the scent up here. Least for a couple millennia, I’d wager.”

Zira shrugged. “Perhaps.” He looked out over the jammed M-25, metal and fumes as far as the eye could spot. “So,” he opened, humming a bit. “This was … all on fire, was it?”

“It was a vision, all right,” he confirmed, his chest pinched somewhere between a swell of pride and horror at witnessing the carnage of humans now _(blessedly? could he use that, as it was the spawn of Satan’s work, really?)_ undone. “Sounds like they’re getting a good start on the next ring of damnation.” Horns blew intermittently along the long loop of traffic and cross voices could be picked out wafting from open auto windows, peppered with a few curses he wasn’t sure even Hell had heard. He could feel the tension bubbling low-grade along the asphalt.

“Dear me,” Zira murmured, shifting a bit restlessly. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, going still, as Crowley pulled his mobile from his pocket and began checking Facebook for some light trolling opportunities in the standstill. He crept the inches required with traffic, as there wasn’t even a narrow squeezeway along the shoulder through which he could will the Bentley.

He became caught up in a promising thread and didn’t register at first that horns were sounding less stridently and the curses were trailing off. It was only when the space in front of his car began lengthening more frequently and demanded he put his pro-Brexit screed aside to pay mind to traffic that he realized they were gaining some speed. It’s also when he heard voices:

_You can do magic_  
You can have anything that you desire  
Magic  
And you know  
You’re the one who can put out the fire 

It was familiar, in the way he any non-Queen was to him from those first brief weeks of ownership of tapes, CDs and, in recent years, MP3 downloads. At least now, provided he took his iPhone with him when he exited the Bentley, he could keep those tracks from Mercurizing for a good number of months before “Another One Bites the Dust” crooned from Adele or Fallout Boy began belting out “We Are the Champions.”

_And when the night it gets so cold_  
When I can’t sleep  
Again you come to me  
I hold you tight, and the rain disappears  
Who would believe it 

But this was an old one. The band name tickled at the back of Crowley’s brain as he tried to figure it out … and what was happening.

For, all along the M-25 as far as he could spot and hear, voices sang in harmony, belting out the lyrics from now-moving vehicles, alongside a multi-centensquaring stereo of car radios tuned improbably to the same station. He was about to comment upon it to his passenger when he noticed the other man’s lips were already moving, eyes half-shut, producing a pleasant hum beneath the same words:

_You know darn well_  
When you cast your spell  
You will get your way  
When you hypnotize, with your eyes  
A heart of stone can turn to clay 

“Angel?” he muttered curiously.

Zira looked sidelong at him, a sly humor in those pale aqua eyes as he continued improbably leading traffic in the freeway’s biggest singalong, though in a much quieter voice.

_And if I wanted to_  
I could never be free  
I never believed it was true  
But now it’s so clear to meeee- 

As the humans and their radios repeated _You can do magic_ , the angel stopped and moved his right hand to pluck the mobile from Crowley’s. He thumbed the screen off and angled it to shove firmly back into its tight jeans pocket. The demon swallowed at the smooth, presumptuous movement, barely remembering to glance sideways out the windscreen so he wouldn’t ram the classic car into a Toyota as that same hand curled over his palm and laced their fingers together. “Angel?” he tried again.

It was almost a smirk as Zira primly informed him, “I think you should get on with the driving.”

They each learned something new that day:

1\. Crowley realized the angel learned he could force the demon to drive a decent speed simply by trapping one of his hands and off the wheel at almost all times.

2\. Crowley learned Zira could perform magic quite admirably when he wanted.


End file.
